To My Dear Friend, Enjolras
by Bassoonator
Summary: Eight years after the revolution, Marius writes a letter to Enjolras about his life after the death of his friends, and his love for a girl who took a bullet for him. A maybe two shot.


To my dear friend, Enjolras:

I have so missed you since your departure! I know you are close, however, so I will remain happy. Much has changed in the eight year since you've been gone. In two years, I will turn thirty. I will soon join you, I am sure of it. Don't fret, I promise I won't annoy you with my pestering about where that beautiful lady went. I have not yet found her, and somehow, I don't think I ever will.

She is not my only love interest any more though. Yes, you heard right, Enjolras. I am in love, once more. Let me tell you about her?

She's a little different.

I think her eyes are the most interesting part of her - they're nothing special. They don't change shade, they don't have some strange colour or pattern. They are unforgivably honest. The dark eyes that stare at you tell you everything you need to know about her - and this is why I write you this, for you can see for yourself.

She stares at you with these wide eyes, with a lost innocence buried. Her eyes state her emotions better than her words do. I've picked up on things as I've known her. When she's upset, she tends to look at the ground a lot. If you did so much as catch a glance of her eyes, you'd see the trouble dwelling. You'd see her emotion, whether it frustration, sadness, fear.

Oh, and I haven't even mentioned when she's in a good mood! This pretty, long lashed eyes glow! You have not seen such beauty in anyone until you have seen her in a good mood! She simply bounces, with out ever leaving the ground. Do not be fooled, my friend, however. What her eyes tell, every other part of her hides.

All I know about her really, is her name, who her family are and how she got here. I know nothing of where she came from, or where she wants to be. It's a little tedious, I won't lie. But isn't that so like our dear Eponine?

Yes, you heard me right, Enjolras. Eponine. The only other survivor of the revolution, besides I.

She hides herself. I have a feeling she's ashamed, so I don't push her, but good God, I want to know! If you were here, with us, you might tell me I'm being a fool, but Enjolras, it feels different. I just know this can't be it for me. Sometimes I wonder.

Maybe she came from wealth. A long line of wealth but her grandparents never passed it onto her parents, so they now live in poverty. Or perhaps, she is a strayed princess. Such expectations I have of her past, but I know from her scars that she came from no castle.

I do so wish you and our friends were here today, Enjolras. Grantaire with his drunken adoration of you and your determined ways. Courfeyrac, always with a smile on his face, even when the soldiers took his and many other's lives. Joly, Bahorel, Lesgle, Combeferre, Feuilly, the lovely Jean, the man who didn't see the gun being pulled on him, because he was attending to others, Joly. Little Gavroche. I can't forget your faces, and I won't.

I still see the way Eponine breathes a little sharper every few breaths, the bullet still in her body somewhere, causing her pain that nobody could possibly help with now. I still see her past our cafe, tears filling her eyes. Worst, I still see her sob over little Gavroche. I watch her cry until she just falls asleep in a tiny puddle of her pain.

Perhaps I have come to accept the fact that you're gone. Eponine hasn't.

In the eight years since the revolution, I have become more or less myself again. I have stopped searching for the girl who fled with her father. I have moved on. Our fight - _your_ fight, Enjolras - did the world a wonder. We may have lost that night, lost twice as many lives as we took, but we made a difference. The rich and the poor may not be the best of friends, but we can call each other acquaintances. We are no longer slaves - we are offered jobs and opportunities and if you were all alive, you might've lived a good life.

I, for one, am now a fully qualified baker. I plan to eventually take over the city bakery. I am now also part owner of Eponine's art business. She paints, draws and sketches. People admire her for her use of black and red mixture, creating dark and sad art. I know it is not her imagination that makes the art so realistic. We are only friends, right now. I know she's afraid to really make new friends or even keep the old ones. You all still rest in her heart, as you rest in mine.

Wish me luck, Enjolras. I plan to marry that once filthy, rubbish-eating woman one day. I love her.

For now, all is well, Enjolras. I hope you are safe, and I hope everybody else is safe.

May your souls be blessed. We'll speak again soon.

Much gratitude,

Marius Pontmercy.

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**A/N: **This has been a working progress over the last couple of days. Not my best, but I really enjoyed writing from Marius' view. If I feel like it, and if you guys would like it, I'd like to eventually write a chapter from Eponine's view, addressing her obvious trust issues and such. Please review!


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